


Phonecall

by p_totel



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Kidnapping, M/M, Phone Calls & Telephones, but if you wanna interpret it that way go ahead UuU, its not romantic is what i wanna say HAHA, like theyre best friends and all, to me this is platonic throbb but i guess you all can interpret it as you want?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:00:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26230798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/p_totel/pseuds/p_totel
Summary: Robb finally reaches Theon's phone number.
Relationships: Ramsay Bolton/Reek, Ramsay Bolton/Theon Greyjoy, Ramsay Bolton/Theon Greyjoy/Reek, Theon Greyjoy/Robb Stark
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47





	Phonecall

When Robb had dialed Theon’s phone, the beeping sounds were madness inducing. Beep. Beep. Beep. Leave a message.

This wouldn’t be the first time, sure - Theon knew to disappear suddenly, sleeping off a three day partying gig, or whoring around, or- any of hundred things irresponsible Greyjoy boy did that made him leave his phone in a dirty bathroom somewhere never to be found again until he bought a new one.

But this time it wasn’t three days.

It was three months.

“Come on, come on…” Robb kept biting his lip, freshly printed HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN posters on his desk.  
He knew nobody would pick up. Nobody ever has. Nobody ever will.

Beep, beep, beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Just when he expected another voicemail message to play, a voice appeared on the other side of the line cracked the beeping rythm.

“Yeah?”

His eyes shot wide and bloody.  
Someone. Picked up.

Dead phoneline suddenly lit.

“Who is it?” Was another sentence he heard an annoyed and slightly worked up voice vibrate.

“I’m-.” Robb choked on his tongue as he sat in his room; space suddenly too big and too cold, surrounding him - unreal. He was too small for it. Lost. Like he was in some lucid dream, just hallucinating the reply. There was no chance anyone would reply. Anyone could reply. “Th-Theon?” He weakly whispered.

The other side was quiet for a second.

“Theon.” The voice mulled at last, like it’s thinking about something. Robb sat on sharp needles, tense like a bowstring. Theon. The voice said it in such pungent voice, every letter dripping from its tongue.  
“Ah! Reek!” A jolly tone sparked up and the unknown man laughed. “That must be for you, Reek.”

Robb frowned in confusion. What even-?  
But the man wasn’t speaking to him anymore anyway.

“I dunno who it is. Some friend of yours. It says here ‘Robb Stark’?”

Robb wanted to protest; apologize for dialling a wrong number, for bothering the man- but he couldn’t speak. Spit balled in his throat, choking him in terror.  
He heard a low whine from the other side and leaned forward, furrowing his brows in confusion. A… dog?

“Do you know this man, Reek?” The voice repeated, a self-satsified note in it. Reek. Who was Reek? “Hold on a second. His mouth is full.” And then, a wet plop sound followed.

“N-no. No, sir.”

Robb couldn’t later remember when telling police about why he knew it was him. Something in it; maybe the pitch, or hoarse and sandy growl, but even from those two words he knew who it was.

“Theon!” He screamed and jumped up. “Theon! Theon, answer me!” His heart picked up a sickening pace, like he was drowning. Trying to swim out of the imagined crazy nightmare.

He heard and exparated sigh.

“There’s no Theon here.” Came a reply with a grunt. “You are not Theon, are you?”

Robb swore he could hear a body-wrecking shivered sobs behind the phone.

“N-no. I’m- Reek. Good Reek. Loyal Reek.”

Reply as if someone was holding a gun to man’s head.  
There was no doubt that was Theon now, the voice abused and rough, almost unrecognizable. Almost. But it was his. Robb knew. Robb had heard that voice thousands of times.

“Theon! Theon, where are you?” Stark boy shouted once again, phone in his hand like a grappling rock; the only thing between him and a free fall. “Theon, answer me!”

“Well, I tried. No Theon here.” The first voice said. “So. Goodbye! Don’t call again.”

“You- give me Th-” Robb tried, a mix of anger and fear pressing him from the insides of his chest. His belly was on fire. Something was wro-

Beep.

The line was cut off.

Stark’s fingers flew over the numbers, typing the number again as fast as possible.

One ring.

“You’ve reached Theon Greyjoy. He’s not available at the moment. Leave your message after the signal-…”

Blocked.

He was blocked.


End file.
